


A Heavy Day

by hrewannabe



Series: Running Home [1]
Category: Werewolf: The Apocalypse, World of Darkness (Games)
Genre: Family Death, Gen, dealing with death, first change, first shift
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-09-01 11:23:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16764181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hrewannabe/pseuds/hrewannabe
Summary: Vieno looks back on his first shift.a character study





	A Heavy Day

It was a heavy day, the day it had happened. The heat had pressed down and the humidity had only made it worse. It had felt like out sneakers could have melted onto the asphalt, turned into a pool of rubber and fabric. Even inside it was still hot, the fans whirling and windows wide open in hopes for a breeze. Still though school had droned on.

The heat had been oppressive the few weeks prior, but on that day it had been the worst.

I had drummed my fingers against the desks all day that day. I had been excited, too excited. But it had been the night before a moot and already I was feeling small in my skin, in being surrounded by buildings and humans. I might not have been garou yet, but I still felt the need to run in my veins. I felt the need to howl and yell out the glory of Gaia and her sister Luna. It should have been a sign. Still moots were always a big deal, they are more so now, but back then even as a kinfolk I had treasured them. It was a time for celebration, of sorrow, but more importantly a way to interact with family members and people that I didn’t get to on a regular basis. It was almost like a carnival and the best part was the story telling that happened. Just watching someone spin a story had always been enchanting, doubly so then. Our Tale Singer had been called Ashanti that year, her deed name was Scorched Flower and she told the best stories besides Aunt Marrgie. Many of the kinfolk would gather around her fire before the moot began to listen to stories and tales while the wolves and battle scarred kinfolk would retell adventures. This time Ashanti had promised I could spin a small story to the younger kinfolk and garou about Gaia’s creation of the world. She had always had a soft spot for me.

It was a Thursday I think, when it happened. The days all start to blend together the further back I go, but I’m certain it was a Thursday because the second track meet had been canceled. I was only an 8th grader, but Track was exciting even if half the time I tripped over my own feet and out of my lane. I had been upset about it, but the record heat, kept me from being too upset. Egil told me that it could happen, that it was rare, but it did. There weren't that many meets that year for 8th graders anyways, Egil patted my shoulder and smiled as he walked to his car. He was going over to his girlfriend's house after school and she was already in his car hanging out the side window waving at him.

I took the bus home. It was always loud, but on that day it seemed even louder. It was like the noise of a battlefield, kids yelling and screaming, paper being thrown occasionally. Rin had climbed into the seat beside me, his red hair plastered to his neck, blue eyes gazing at me as he offered me a sly smile. I smiled back as big as I could and he reached forward and pinched my cheeks and laughed at my expression. I had given him a small frown and grabbed a book out of my bag, it was going to be a long ride home. As the bus took off, we both settled in to read, trying hard to avoid the sounds of high schoolers and middle schoolers careening together.

When I got home the screen door had been open, I frowned. Dad never left the door open, Ma must of come home early I thought glancing at the cars in the drive and yep there had been mom’s little beat up truck sitting in the driveway. I still wish that I hadn't walked into the house, I should have noticed the awkward way the screen door was hanging open or the way the front door was cracked open. The way no one came out of the house or to the door when the bus pulled up, but I hadn't and I lightly pushed the door open calling out that I was home. I didn't get an answer. That was my second chance to realize what had happened and I failed that one too.

I had wandered into the kitchen after having dropped my bag at the front door. It was hot even inside the house. Hotter than usual, the fan sounded off kilter, making a weird thumping noise in the hall to the kitchen. If I had been watching the floor I would have seen the blood pooling out across wood. If I had been paying more attention I would have seen the claw marks on the doorframe or the way the photos weren't straight on the wall. Like they say hindsight is 20/20, and I didn't notice any of them, just hmmed and walked straight into the kitchen and there they were.

Momma had still been shifting back into homid, facial features still softening, Dad laid out under her. I wish I hadn't remembered all these details. The way that their hands were reached for the door. The way that Dad's mouth was open, their eyes glazed and bodies oh so still. The way the backdoor was wide open, dad’s books scattered across the room and kitchen table, pens rolled underneath what had been his usual chair. I just remember standing there and then nothing. Just black and flashes of color and glimpses. I remember red. Red everywhere, on my sneakers that were torn to shreds and on my hands. I remember howling, Head tilted back and tears. I remember claws that I had never had swinging. And red. Always red. And then nothing. And then the blurry shoes of Egil coming into view. And then nothing again.

After that it was the hospital. Egil never going far. Cops asking what had happened. Elders and grandpop asking the same things over and over again. And tears. It felt like I had cried for days. Maybe I had. It's the shock that makes those days afterward blur together. I remember retreating to the cearn. Brother had done the same. Curled up together in a smaller cave corner. I never did get to go to the moot and when I realized I had missed it I had laughed. It was broken, but I laughed. I was a Garou now, but I didn't feel like one, wasn't supposed to be one. I had been satisfied with being a kinfolk. My home cearn had always treated us kinfolk well. I didn't want this anger thrumming under my skin like a furnace about to blow. I had wanted to be like my father and Aunt Marggie not Momma and Aunt Aradia or grandpop. I wanted to be in this world, but not like this. I didn't want battle, and war and pain, not like this.

‘Life throws you curve balls kid’ dad had told me that once, I was curled up beside him on the couch watching the door waiting for Momma and Egil to come home. He had ruffled my hair and wrapped me tight. I wouldn't have that ever again. I wouldn't get to watch everyone roughhouse on the floor after a family dinner. Or see Momma come home in her uniform brushing off dirt and grinning wild. I wouldn't get to see her big brawny Lupis form next to Egil’s racing out in front of myself as I ran. They were gone. It was a curve ball. It was like I had stumbled into the wrong lane on the track and couldn't get out.

Aunt Marggie let us mope for about a week in the cearn before bringing us to her house, but we didn't stay for long. Everyone in the know kept us. We'd bounce from cousin to aunt, to Grandpop, and even to Aunt Aradia after she flew in. It was weird. It was wrong. I wanted to go home. Not their homes, but mine.

I didn't go back to track practice. I didn't really talk that much anymore. Rin and Sara couldn't seem to understand why, but Malkom and Dianna did. We'd go to the farm all three of us, and sit out there. Eyes up and aimed at the sky. They would chat and I would listen. They talked about their dad a lot. Told me how hard it must be for me losing both, were as they had only lost one and I had burst into tears. Snot running out my nose I was crying so hard. They understood what was happening. We had laid back that night hair and limbs tangled together, the way that kids do soaking up comfort in each other's prescience, quiet whispers occasionally being set into the sky.

Malkom and Dianna understood what was happening, the pain. Egil did too but it was different with him. He was always close by now. He was worried. He had stopped going to practice and had started studying maps and old journals and newspapers. He got into fights, and was always challenging the others in his age group at the Cearn. I had changed, but I think that Egil had changed the most.

I had walked then like the whole world was pressing down on my shoulders and he walked like he was going into battle shoulders high, a wild grin split across his face. It wouldn't be long til he hit the road searching for what had killed our parents. It was like he had an itch under his skin, his shift always there close to the surface and waiting to strike. And still I remember the heat of that day and the way it rolled on the blacktop, the odd thump of the fan and the dark red blood soaked into my shoes and spreading on the kitchen floor.


End file.
